


in all fairness

by a-bigail (spacepuck)



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Family, Fatherhood, It's not too sad i promise, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 09:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepuck/pseuds/a-bigail
Summary: As Yuki settled an asparagus crown into its new home, careful not to pack the soil too tightly over it, he found himself straining to listen to the handful of bees humming far behind him in the camellia shrubs, the sound bicycles whirring down the road, bells trilling. The noises were there, but he still felt as though he were missing something as he sat alone. Brushing his hand over the soil, submerging another root in the earth, feeling the livelihood of the season staring him in the back.He glanced at Machi still sitting at the table, experiencing her own moments of calm, and wondered.Maybe it was just that he wanted his son near. The thought made his chest pang slightly, and he huffed at himself.He’s just inside,he thought. He brushed aside the few petals that had fallen on his shoulders, smudging his shirt with dirt. He picked up another spindling root.I thought parents were grateful when their kids slept…--Yuki works on the garden in the backyard of his and Machi's home. His son looks awfully like him.





	in all fairness

**Author's Note:**

> been really sitting in the fruits basket feelings, huh. cross-posted on tumblr [here](https://yunsoh.tumblr.com/post/184446875213/in-all-fairness-pairing-yuki-sohmamachi-kuragi).

April had settled into its steady pace: chilled mornings followed by comfortable afternoons, spots of rain throughout the nights nudging the skeleton trees to bloom, the return of garden spiders and honeybees bringing life to the foliage dotting the yard. The weather had finally become pleasant. Winter’s last frost, Yuki noticed, had come late this year.

He was settled outside beneath the old kanzan tree. It created a moderate shadow over part of the garden, offering future harvests some shade throughout the spring and summer, even after the fragile pink blooms had dropped away and scattered. There was some time before that, though; for now, the petals fell loose and intermittent, still strong and new. They peppered his hair and collar when a stronger breeze knocked them free. Some danced over his gloved hands as he worked the soil to create a new row for the asparagus crowns waiting beside him.

Machi was inside. She sat at the table reading, absently twining the old ribbon of her bookmark around her finger. From the garden, Yuki could see her shadowed form through the sliding door, half-open to let in the fresh air. Further into their home, their small Mutsuki slept, having finally conceded to taking a nap after a difficult night.

A slow breeze swept through the trees, building up a dull roar before coasting back into vague springtime white noise. Yuki let himself sink into the quiet. It was something that was becoming increasingly rare as his son grew into a personality that battled his and Machi’s relative quiet and calm. Where they lacked in decibels, he made up for, bold and unabashed.

“Like Ayame,” Yuki had said once, watching from the sidelines as Mutsuki ravaged some mulch on the playground with a group of other children, acting as the self-appointed commander for whatever game they were playing. At the time, his language meant little to his parents, but seemed to have some hold over his peers.

“Like Kakeru,” Machi had replied. “The two of them...”

“I know. Back when they met him in the hospital?”

“Mm.”

“Like Maleficent. Was that the one? Cursed Sleeping Beauty as a baby?”

“Maybe. Is your brother a witch?”

“Maybe. Is your brother his ward?”

She responded again with a small hum. He watched her eyes crinkle with a smile, then, just as Mutsuki peeled away from his group with a shrieking laugh.

“Even so,” she said, “it’s not so bad.”

It wasn’t. As Yuki settled an asparagus crown into its new home, careful not to pack the soil too tightly over it, he found himself straining to listen to the handful of bees humming far behind him in the camellia shrubs, the sound bicycles whirring down the road, bells trilling. The noises were there, but he still felt as though he were missing something as he sat alone. Brushing his hand over the soil, submerging another root in the earth, feeling the livelihood of the season staring him in the back.   

He glanced at Machi still sitting at the table, experiencing her own moments of calm, and wondered.

Maybe it was just that he wanted his son near. The thought made his chest pang slightly, and he huffed at himself.

 _He’s just inside,_ he thought. He brushed aside the few petals that had fallen on his shoulders, smudging his shirt with dirt. He picked up another spindling root. _I thought parents were grateful when their kids slept…_

“Yuki.”

“Mm?”

He turned his head, startled from his thoughts, to see Machi on the low deck some yards away. She shielded the sun from her eyes with her book, thumb tucked inside it as a placeholder.

“Lunch should be here soon,” she said.

“Ah, too bad.” He grabbed a handful of the roots in his hand and waggled them at her. “I was looking forward to these.”

Her mouth tucked into a small frown as she squinted to see what he was holding. When she met his eyes, he answered, “Asparagus.”

“You don’t even like asparagus.”

“Maybe, but these ones could be the ones to change my mind.” He gave the roots a definitive shake before letting them fall again. “Or maybe Mutsuki will like them when he’s a bit older.”

She stepped down onto the deck’s only step, and moved to come even closer, but paused. For a moment, her foot, covered with her house slipper, hung over the grass still damp from the early morning’s rain. He watched her expression change minutely as she placed her foot back on the wood.

“How long do they take?” she asked.

“To grow? A few years. But they won’t need to be replanted for a long time. Well, if I grow them right, anyway.”

Her brows perked at that. As he started to peel off one of his gloves, he glanced at the rest of the garden bed, empty for now. Though they had lived in their home for over a year, it had been a process creating the space, from deciding the best place for it, to building the raised bed, to giving up on building it and hiring someone instead. Now that it was time to begin the spring planting, Yuki was almost nervous that he had lost his green thumb during his time away.

But, he supposed, he would just have to wait and see. He tugged the other glove off and inspected the rings of soil that circled his wrists.

“But I think they’ll be good,” he said, returning his eyes back to Machi. He smiled. “I think--”

“Mama-a-a-a.”

Machi turned her head to face the sound. She lowered the book from above her eyes to instead hold to her stomach, and, at another call for her, called Mutsuki’s name. In waiting for his son to find them, Yuki absently dusted the dirt from his wrists.

A moment later, Mutsuki appeared at the threshold, hair mussed and cheeks red. Barefoot, he stepped onto the deck, and with an outstretched hand he grabbed Machi’s sleeve. Machi looked down at him, and he looked up, expectant.

It was a brief exchange. Machi turned to crouch in front of him, brushing his hair from his forehead, murmuring questions that he nodded his head to. Yuki only saw her pick him up from his peripherals; he had to look down at his hands to work out a sudden tightness in his chest. Something he had experienced a few times before -- a pang when his son was born, another when his hair grew out grey and familiar -- but this one felt more visceral. An unseen hand gripping the soul settled under his ribs. A voice buried in him saying, _this is what you could have had. Unfair, isn’t it?_

He swallowed. Cleared his throat, raised a hand to swipe the blur from his vision. As quickly as the feeling had come, it was reburied.

When he lowered his hand from his eyes, he saw Machi’s slippered feet near him.

“Papa, papa, papa.”

“Yuki?”

He looked up at them just as she lowered herself, adjusting Mutsuki against her hip. The boy squirmed free and stamped his small feet against the grass with a laugh. Machi let him go. Reaching out, she thumbed the wet underside of Yuki’s eye and frowned.

“Are you--”

“What are you hiding?”

Yuki twisted himself to see Mutsuki behind him, kneeling on the edge of the garden box. His small hands sifted through the one of the loose patches of soil until he came upon the asparagus crown. Yuki situated himself to face the garden again.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked. Mutsuki picked up the root, pinching some of its ends, shaking it lightly.

“An octopus,” he said decisively.

Machi snorted a little. Yuki smiled.  

“No, but it looks like one, doesn’t it? It’s actually a root. A plant is going to grow from it.”

Mutsuki’s face pinched.

“But it’s so _small_. And ugly.”

“Well, it needs to grow first. It won’t look like this forever.”

Yuki held his hand out, and Mutsuki placed the crown in his palm. Bare-handed, he dug out the hole again, and carefully placed the root back inside.

“The dirt is going to help it grow,” he explained, “and eventually it’ll start to grow out of the ground, and look prettier. But for now, it needs to be buried.”

He swept a hand over the hole, once again bringing the soil to sit loose on top.

“Will it come out tomorrow?”

“Hmm, a little longer than that.” Yuki wiped his hands together to brush away the dirt. “You’ll be bigger by the time it’s ready.

“But I’m _already_ big.”

“You’re right,” Machi said. She sifted some of the soil through her hand. “But one day you’ll be bigger. Like Papa.”

Mutsuki thought for a moment, mouth pouted. He looked at Yuki, then back to Machi, saying,

“But Papa’s so _old_.”

Machi laughed outright at that. The sound rang over Yuki’s shoulder.

“Right again.”

“ _Hah_ ,” Yuki said, looking at her. He tried to mask the laugh rising in his chest with a faux glare, but felt the smile slip past anyway. “Thanks, _Mama_.”

She smiled at him, about to respond again until her phone rang in her pocket. The noise seemed to startle her, until her shoulders calmed again.

“Ah, that’s probably the food. Could you…?”

She gestured at Mutsuki. His hands and knees were covered in soil, blades of grass stuck to the undersides of his feet. Yuki nodded. With another smile, a gentle touch to his knee, she rose, turning away as she answered the call. She left her dirtied slippers on the deck beside the abandoned book before slipping inside the house to answer the front door.

Yuki put a hand on Mutsuki’s back to get the boy’s attention. He had started digging smaller holes in the garden with his fingers.

“I think it’s time to get cleaned up for lunch. I’ll carry you in, okay? Your feet are all dirty.”

Mutsuki nodded and, after being instructed to shake some of the dirt free from his hands, raised his arms to circle around his father’s neck. Yuki rose with the boy settled against his front. As he walked, Mutsuki kicked his legs idly against his sides.

“Are you going to dig more?” he asked.

“Mhm. There’s a few more roots to bury. Do you want to help me after we have lunch?”

He felt the vibration of an excited hum and a few quick nods against his shoulder.

Inside, he sat the boy on the edge of the tub, wiping down his feet and knees, before guiding him to wash his hands in the sink. Mutsuki hummed to himself a song he had learned at school. In the mirror’s reflection, Yuki caught his own eye, noticing the smudge of dried dirt left underneath. Then he looked down at Mutsuki, the reflection of him pouring too much soap into his hands.

For a moment, it felt more like peering into an alternate universe than looking at his child. The thought sat in him, uncomfortable, like a mismatched piece trying desperately to wedge itself into a spot it didn’t belong. But, then the thought passed, and Mutsuki interrupted Yuki’s line of sight as he raised his hands for his father to inspect.

“Looks good,” he said, washing his face over with a smile. “How about you help Mama set up? I think she got your favorite.”

The boy ran out at that, filling the hallway with a delighted cry of _“yakisoba-a-a!”_ and leaving Yuki in the bathroom. With a sigh, his smile fell slightly. He turned again to the mirror.

 _Your son isn’t you,_ he thought. _And that’s a good thing._

With that, he wiped away at the dirt under his eyes with cold water.

Down the hall, Mutsuki called for him.

\--

Later, when night had set in and the neighborhood fell quiet, Machi joined him on the couch where he had been staring at the television in the dark, lost in thought. On his knee, his phone was illuminated with a text drafted to his brother, unfinished. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to talk to him, really, but he felt compelled to address something to him, even if he didn’t plan on sending it. Maybe just to settle his thoughts.

Machi touched his shoulder, then slid her hand to the back of his neck.

“The garden looks really good,” she said. “How did he do?”

“Oh, pretty well,” he said. He smiled softly at her, and she combed her fingertips through the hair over his ear. “He liked digging the holes. But he also liked digging them back up.”

She smiled at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He knew it would only last a moment. Soon, she would say--

“Something’s been bothering you today.”

His smile fell after hers. He hummed, guiding his eyes back to the television, his phone, down to his hands.

“I guess so. I’ve just been...thinking.”

“About something bothersome.”

“Well…right.”

Her hand came to his forehead, and she brushed his bangs back, holding them to the top of his head before letting them slowly fall back into place. She repeated the gesture once more before saying,

“He’s starting to really look like you.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped him. “You’re too good at this.”

“Is it…” She paused, hand cradled on the back of his head as she searched for the words. “You mentioned something about it a while ago.”

He looked at her again. Her hand fell away from him. “Did I?”

“Or, actually… No. It was your brother. When we had gone together to the lake house for Golden Week.” She breathed a short laugh through her nose. “Mutsuki tried running into the water.”

“Ah, _that_ vacation.”

“Mhm. Ayame… I guess he found me, or got bored, and wanted to talk to me.”

For some reason, he felt his ears burn at that. “He didn’t trap you in a monologue, did he?”

“No. Well, maybe he did. I usually space out when he talks.”

 _How does he let you,_ he wondered, followed by, _Teach me._ She continued, words slow as she focused her eyes over his shoulder, recounting.

“But I remember… you had gone off somewhere, and he wanted to spend some time with Mutsuki. And he mentioned how much he looks like you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuki saw his phone screen finally go black.

“He talked a little bit about when you were kids, I guess. Not in specifics, but…” She shrugged. “It wasn’t anything you hadn’t already told me. He said that he was happy Mutsuki was getting a better chance than you did. Like he would be able to watch you grow up all over again, but right this time.”

Yuki startled a little. “Jesus. He said that?”

“More or less. It was a few years ago, so, you know.” She waved a hand noncommittally. “Grain of salt.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Yuki cleared his throat, saying,

“He isn't wrong, I guess. I… I would be lying if I said that I didn't think that way, either.”

Machi tilted her head. Hurriedly, he added, “Only sometimes, though. I don't really think about it all that much.”

“I mean… it wouldn't be bad if you did.” She moved her hand back to him, holding his knee. “But I'm glad it's only sometimes.”

“I just don’t want to turn into one of those parents that tries to… I don’t know.” He placed his hand on top of her’s, brows furrowing. “Tries to _fix_ my own childhood through my kid, somehow.”

“Living vicariously.”

“Right.”

“Do you think you are?”

His mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. She waited quietly for him to find the words, but a clear answer never came to him. Logically, he knew it was no; Mutsuki was his own entity, a firework that couldn’t be contained by anyone’s wishful thinking. And the things that Yuki wanted as a child, Mutsuki had. He never left home, or went to sleep, unhappy.   

But he couldn’t get himself to say it. Some small part of him worried. Doubted.

So instead, he said, “Before, in the garden… I’m sorry if I worried you. An old memory came to mind. I guess it kind of surprised me.”  

“Huh? Oh. Hm.” She fidgeted a little beside him, and he watched her cheeks flush. “I mean…”

“Machi?”

“I thought you had gotten dirt in your eyes. I was checking to see.”

He perked his brows at her. Then, a small laugh fell from him, and she grew redder.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes? You had dirt all over your hands and you were rubbing your face. I didn’t know that...”

He laughed again, and she slid her hand from under his to press to her face instead.

“Then how did you know I was upset?”

“You’re easy to read.”

“But you thought I was crying because I got dirt in my eyes?”

She dipped her head into both of her hands, groaning a small “shut up” as he laughed again, covering his mouth to soften the sound. It wasn’t at her -- there was something in him that felt some relief that, at least, one of the day’s small weights was lifted. Gently, he took her wrists in his hands, encouraging her to uncover her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

“Hmm.”

She remained stubborn for another long moment before finally conceding and letting him lower and hold her hands. When he met her eyes, he brushed his thumb over the back of her fingers.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry I made you worry, but also… thank you for worrying.”

Still flushed, she shook her head, saying, “You always say that.”

“And it’s always true.”

“You know you don’t need to apologize.”

“I know.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. She tilted her head up, and they shared a kiss, soft and quiet, while a passing rain shower pattered against the windows. The television illuminated the walls, the back of his eyelids, with reds and yellows and greens. Once they separated, Machi rested her head on his shoulder. He laced his fingers through hers, pressing another kiss to the crown of her head. 

She wouldn’t press the matter, he knew. She trusted he would reveal his thoughts to her in time, once he parsed through them himself.

Down the hall, Mutsuki slept, none the wiser. Dreaming, Yuki hoped, of fair and happy tomorrows.


End file.
